


Poprocks

by amanda_jolene



Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Genre: F/M, Gen, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 20:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1997112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amanda_jolene/pseuds/amanda_jolene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poprocks and smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poprocks

**Author's Note:**

> Do not put poprocks on your hooha. Sugar does not belong on your hooha. This is fiction. Do not attempt in real life. You have been warned.

He was more sure of this a month ago. 

A month ago he had sort of read a page out of her diary about Jarvis Cocker and his jealousy had gotten the best of him. It was his fault for reading something so private (even though she had left the book at his) but when he had given it back to her, his brown eyes tinged green with jealousy, she had folded two pages back and told him to read them. He had pretended to be reluctant but had devoured the pages as soon as he had gotten home. 

It was little tidbit fantasies. Involving him. There were things they had tried already like the mint tea (he still shivered and had to take deep, calming breaths at the mere thought) but then there were things they hadn’t tried and all of those things had made him lose his mind and somewhere between his knees shaking and not having enough blood to keep his brain functioning, he had told her that he especially wanted to do the thing with the poprocks. And at that time, he did. 

But in his defense, his dick had been hoarding all the blood and it wasn’t very good at making decisions. 

Now, though, he wasn’t so sure. 

It was supposed to be their first night properly alone since the mint tea incident and she had pulled out a bag of poprocks, waving it with a little grin before carelessly dropping them on his bedside table. 

He panics just a little (but waits until she’s out of the room to do so) because he hadn’t really thought about actually doing that. The tea had been warm and wet and tingly and wonderful but the thought of having anything exploding around his dick made him feel sort of nauseated. It couldn’t really remember the last time he had indulged in that candy but he did distinctly remember a particularly large piece hurting his tongue. 

So he was afraid of what it might do to his little guy. 

He reckons he could just tell Rae that he had reservations about it now but the thought of telling her he was afraid of candy hurt his pride a little too much. So he decides to distract her. It shouldn’t be that hard, right? She had distracted him for months and months, had kept him on his toes and off his feet and out of his mind for days at a time. Surely he could manage a few hours. 

He started with records and a little drink but she wasn’t having any drink (as her self-confidence increased, her dependence on booze in social situations had decreased) so he took two shots to steady him nerves and played her a little Elvin Bishop and Buddy Holly. The records were such a hit that by the third song, his shirt had been tossed somewhere behind the couch and he’s working the button on her jeans. Her glorious mouth is on his collar bone (she had odd fascinations with things other girls always breezed over- his collar bones, navel, and the faint trail of soft hairs underneath) and when little Finnley makes himself known, she whispers “Take this upstairs?”

Normally, he would be pulling her to his bedroom in a rushed bid to have her naked again but tonight there was safety in the living room. Because the poprocks were upstairs and he was still uncertain about the prospect of anything popping on such a delicate part of his anatomy. 

She’s got him by the belt, though, pulling him behind her and he figures he’s got 30 seconds to formulate a plan on how to get out of this, 60 if he can finish getting them both undressed. 

The fact that they both like being naked in front of each other and kissing until they run out of air works in his advantage and buy him a solid 5 minutes of prep time. She tries to push him back on the bed but he stands firm and they end up in a wrestling match of sorts which gets them both riled and feverish, hands groping and grabbing, fingers slicking through wet and heat. He almost misses her reaching for the poprocks but the crinkle of the package sends him near swan-diving between her thighs (his second favorite place to be) and she gasps and drops the little packet in order to properly fist his hair while she moans his name. If his hands weren’t otherwise engaged, he’d pat himself on the back. 

Finn figures he’s probably pro at oral at this point. He’d been fair at it before, better with his hands and dick, if he’s honest. But with Rae he had become a connoisseur of her fine taste and spent many, many hours with his face pressed against her. All of him was made strictly for her pleasure (one night she told him he had a cute nose and he drunkenly mumbled it wasn’t a nose but a glorified clit bumper and she had laughed until she cried and then he had to prove his point). Not just his mouth and hands and dick but all of him. A firm knee between her legs while they kissed, the angle of his hip when she slipped her tongue over his neck. Everything about him was built for her needs. 

“Finn.” She’s trying to close her legs and push him away after her second orgasm leaves her a shaking mess and he’s hoping that in her post-orgasm haze, she’ll forget all about those stupid poprocks but just in case, he carefully sweeps a hand across the floor until he finds them and a flick of his wrist sends them flying under the bed because he’s decided that anything that snaps, crackles, and pops doesn’t belong his dick. 

He moves up her body, kissing her neck and face until she’s recovered her breath and then he kisses her mouth until she’s breathless again. 

“That was unexpected.” She tells him. “I thought for once you’d let me just focus on you.” 

He shakes his head. “Never.” 

Rae’s hands pat the bed. “Where’d they go?” 

Finn wishes she weren’t the honest sort. Being honest had gotten him in a lot of trouble over the years. “I think I might have hit them under the bed.” 

She eyes him as his hands tangle nervously in the blanket. “You don’t want me to-“

“No, I do! I just…” he trails off. Such a wuss. 

“You just?”

“Exploding candy seems a bit… dangerous.” When she laughs, he turns red. “It’s not funny!” 

She tries to compose herself, tries to make her face serious but all that happens is she ends up snorting which sends them both into peals of laughter. 

“I don’t think it’s dangerous.” 

“Dangerous was clearly the wrong word. Painful, maybe?” 

She shakes her head. “Nah. Get ‘em and I’ll show you.” 

Well, fuck. He’s hesitant but finally rolls over to search for them after he warns her not to smack his arse (which she does anyway). 

“I don’t even like strawberry,” he mumbles, handing the packet over. 

“Well, they won’t be in your mouth, will they?” 

She knows him well enough that she can see under all his grump, he is really just a bundle of nerves, so she takes her time in kissing his neck and ears, smoothing his hair back and letting her fingers drag through the thatch of hair under his navel before slowly stroking him back to working order. She opens the pack and pours a tiny bit in her mouth, raising her eyebrows as she brings one of his hands up, wrapping her lips around his index finger. 

Oh. Oh. 

Finn spends a great deal of time wondering how she can make him feel her mouth around his finger all the way in his dick (the best he has come up with is witchcraft). It’s fizzy on his skin and his shoulders draw up when he shudders. 

“Good?” she asks, tongue licking a stray candy from the tip of his finger. 

“Good.” 

“Should I…?” 

He doesn’t respond, just gathers her hair back in a make shift ponytail because there’s nothing quite as good as watching his girl go down on him. She pours a little more before taking him in her mouth and it’s such a strange, wonderful sensation that his hips flex involuntarily and he lets out a groan that would embarrass him if his brain were functioning right. It’s so vastly different from the tea (which had felt like a bath of sex) that he’s not sure he’ll recover from this. And just like with the tea, he’s making half-moaning, half dying animal noises but she doesn’t laugh this time. 

He doesn’t last long either.

It’s the fizz and pop, her mouth and tongue bathing the snaps and crackles around the head of his cock while her hand squeezes and moves in just the right pace up and down his shaft. 

“Rae, I’m gonna-“

It’s usually a warning for her to slow down but it’s clear she means to finish him when she takes a split second to pour the other bit of the poprocks into her mouth and takes him all the way down until her nose brushes his stomach and he tenses, fists clenching the sheets as her name tumbles out of his mouth. 

Like the tea, his dick is still tingling when she kisses him and they both laugh because her mouth is still popping and the thought is so lewd and wrong and perfect that she works him through another orgasm before digging another packet for her bag. 

“You turn.”


End file.
